Back in the 90s "web designer" was a cool job title. For about five minutes. Then the riffraff from the advertising industry flooded every corner of the business with the same sort of aesthetic sense as the people who make those annoying-as-hell inserts in magazines and newspapers. You know, the ones that try to sell you discounted poultry -- or some stupid, cheap plastic rubbish to be inflated and then subsequently left in the garden until moss starts to grow on it.
Today, saying that you are a web-designer at a party carries the same social stigma as proudly announcing that you suffer from an infectous disease that is only transmitted by suspect lifestyle choices. If you have tried to purchase a timepiece lately you'll know what I mean. The websites of manufacturers of watches are made by people with syphilitic brains. And I am being polite here.
About a year or two ago all these "social media" types popped up. People who have a Twitter- or a Facebook account and somehow seem to have missed the irony of affixing the word "social" to professional grade anti-social behavior. You are an annoying turd whether you stuff my mailbox full of glossy paper or you follow me around on the net to tell me about things I neither need to know or particularly want to know.
If you really want a conversation, let's talk about the fact that your hotel rooms reek, your flight reservation system is buggy, that your customer service is neither about customer nor service and that your staff has all the charm of soviet era gulag prison guards. Oh yes, we're going to have that conversation if you keep stalking me.